


Gunshot

by huntedjunker



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2019-03-29 11:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13925955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntedjunker/pseuds/huntedjunker
Summary: A memory that may not have happened - Junkrat and Roadhog incarcerated, attempt an escape in the dead of night.





	Gunshot

The temperature had plummeted at this time of night, well after the sun had disappeared past the horizon and the outback transformed into pitch. The world hadn’t changed, as often described, an overdone cliché that had lost meaning. Everything remained the same – nothing changed in size, no hidden dangers revealed themselves in the darkness.

The landscape; to be _specific_ , the layout of the _institution_ was a rock-solid map behind his eyes, memorised in part of the preparation for the breakout. Accustomed to the change in light, the glint of Junkrat’s irradiated eyes could bring attention to his presence at a close distance. Alone, he was reluctant to continue forward, often looking back over his shoulder to scan the area behind him. The high-security prison had been grudgingly called home for the past six months - grown tired of how stale life had become, the junkers had formulated a plan to break-out, by themselves.

Outside, the air was cooler than inside the prison. The breeze was dead – nothing was stirred, the scrub grass lining the foot of the re-assembled concrete wall still, however they still posed a risk for creating noise when trodden on. The outlines of the sparse vegetation were blurry, indistinct shapes in the dark, save for a larger shadow that had entered the prison yard.

Motionless, the bomber was close to the ground furthest from a section of the wall that had been patched over with sheets of corrugated iron. The rough bullet holes scattered across the concrete and the metal could be felt easily by touch alone, sight wasn’t needed supposing it was available ( _which it wasn’t_ ); counting them individually determined where you were quite easily.

Calculating the shift rotation and routine of the prison guards who waited patiently overhead, manning the few watch-towers defending the main complex and the surrounds, Junkrat hadn’t succeeded in making much headway. _Roadhog had_ **vanished** – the older junker had failed to appear at their agreed rendezvous point. Led astray, or, preoccupied with another task, Rat hadn’t any idea _why_ his partner was missing.

Heart pounding, Rat was frozen, pressed against the cold wall, breathless. This outcome hadn’t been explored in their face-to-face meetings. With his historic life-long experience as an enforcer, and more, it wasn’t feasible that Hog had snubbed their plan to escape. Neglecting his own scheme was unimaginable; not… Not unless his body-guard had been held back.

Sifting through the dialogue they’d shared last time they had the rare opportunity to converse, to recall any crucial details he may have overlooked, the two junkers were kept isolated for the majority of their incarceration. Worried, distracted by his rambling thoughts, thinking of retracing his path to the annex, the approach of running footsteps had gone unnoticed.

In a split-second, a circle of light shone over him; the brilliant white light dissolving every shadow, showing the startled prisoner in sharp relief. The black and white stripes of his prison uniform merged into one colour for a moment that felt like an entire decade, in the high-intensity beam of the guard-tower’s spotlight. Blinded by the light, unable to move out of fear, the sound of a sudden gunshot echoing in the yard dragged him out of his shock ───

─── blinking hard, Junkrat found himself staring at the disassembled firearm in front of him, spread out in correct order. The dirty cleaning rag he held in one hand, the shotgun’s stock in his other, didn’t waver; Rat’s trembling had ceased the instant that the familiar sound of Hog’s deep voice had reached him through the fog of the memory.

Face ashen, his skin beaded with perspiration, Rat let out a shaky breath and shot Hog a sheepish grin. Eyes darting from each of the garage’s exits that he could pinpoint from where he sat at the bench, like he were looking for another body, the bomber was quick to recover from his shock with a question fired back to his disgruntled mate, his tone incredulous although he obviously was clearly distressed, shaken from his ordeal of recalling a memory that he was not comvinced was _real_.

“ ** _What?_** ”


End file.
